


Living Amongst The Clouds

by masterroadtripper



Category: Testament of Youth (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Afterlife, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Purgatory, War, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-18 08:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16991424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masterroadtripper/pseuds/masterroadtripper
Summary: It was a world in a bubble, completely separate from the horrors of The Ground.  Most of the people living in The Clouds had been on The Ground for a lifetime already.  This was their reward.  A time to spend together with their loved ones free from the anger and hatred that they faced on The Ground.  Here, love was timeless and no one was in any danger.





	Living Amongst The Clouds

_It was a world in a bubble, completely separate from the horrors of The Ground. Most of the people living in The Clouds had been on The Ground for a lifetime already. This was their reward. A time to spend together with their loved ones free from the anger and hatred that they faced on The Ground. Here, love was timeless and no one was in any danger._

_Sad, it truly was. If you were in The Clouds, it had meant that you had paid the ultimate price on The Ground and there was no way to return. Many people were afraid of death on The Ground. If only they knew what was waiting for them. It was not heaven. Heaven’s pearly white gates were not open to those who lived on The Clouds as they were destined to spend an eternity among others just like themselves. Though that was the true fallacy of life on The Clouds; you were not allowed into Heaven but suddenly you were allowed to spend an eternity with the person you loved and people just like yourself. It almost seemed like a suitable trade off._

_The Clouds had everything that The Ground did; food, shelter, family; all the essentials. You could live in communal housing where you were assigned to a house with a number of other people. That area was mostly for single people, or those who had gone to The Clouds before their partner. Another area was for single-family housing where a family could live just like they could live on The Ground. There were schools for the children that went to The Clouds before they finished their education, parks, shopping malls, recreation centers and overall it projected a very similar aura to The Ground. There were orphanages for the kids that Heaven rejected and there were families that took care of them. It was the fantasy that everyone had lain awake at night on The Ground dreaming of. The ideal world that they wished they lived in._

_The Clouds were purgatory, an offshoot from Heaven and Hell created for those who were not allowed into Heaven and yet had not actually done anything wrong during their time on The Ground. This particular neighbourhood of The Clouds, which some people were destined to live in, was specifically for those who had committed “crimes” based on who they loved. Other neighbourhoods existed, but unfortunately, those in The Clouds, Heaven or Hell had no opportunity to interact with each other. If you were separated from your relatives, you would never be able to reconnect with them._

_It was designed to be colourless, hidden amongst real clouds and unknown to the rest of the world. People kept their colour when they arrived but found that nothing else had retained its vibrate hues. The Clouds were built in rings based on the era in which its residents arrived. Closest to the center were two fully developed rings including the centuries from year zero to nine hundred. The next ring was two sections shy from being complete and the last neighbourhood was the one designated for the nineteenth century. Each neighbourhood had its own style of architecture unique to its era and while completely white, would still maintain the correct feeling for its residents. Residents remained ageless, paused at the age of their death or their peak health, depending upon which would provide more benefit to them. The residents had no choice in the matter however. In actuality, there were very few elements of choice available to those residing in The Clouds, but the residents were thankful, for the most part, to even have the opportunity to not be sent to Hell._

* * *

**Geoffrey** found he could not remember just how long he had been in The Clouds on any regular day but he was usually able to remember around the time that The Ground celebrated a new year. He believed he was nearing 102 years in The Clouds, but he was not certain. Time blended together so quickly in a life of ease. He was twenty-two years old when he died, that he knew for sure. The day he was shot in the lungs, it was almost two months after his birthday. He had been deployed in the Great War since 1914 and had only been on leave twice in that time.

When he was shot, Geoffrey was not sure of his fate. While his family were religious, and so was he, he knew that Saint Peter would likely not let him through into the afterlife that the church spoke of. As he lay in the mud near Monchy le Preux, his abdomen burning with pain and breathing becoming so incredibly difficult, he wished he could have said goodbye to Edward one last time.

He then woke up in a bed. That was the first indication that something had happened. He knew he was shot, presumably in the lungs, and no one ever survived that. No one from his company or regiment had yet to date. So where was he?

The room was white with no other colours; it was whiter than anything he had seen before. At home in England, nothing was white for long, even the fresh snow. It would get covered in soot or ashes within seconds of it falling onto the ground. Then, during the war, everything was mud coloured. Browns, greens, greys and blacks dominated all colour schemes that he had seen constantly for three years. The white was a nice change but it seemed to be everywhere. Walls, floors, ceilings, everything was white. Softness was the next thing he noticed after waking up. Barracks blankets were not the most soft nor comfortable, which likely meant he was not still on Earth. Perhaps he was actually in Heaven and perhaps he was allowed in, unlike the church said.

Geoffrey knew now that he had died on the battlefield. The message he was attempting to deliver never reached its intended location. He was unsure what was in the letter he was carrying when he was shot, but his Company Officer seemed to think it was important. However that was the last thing on his mind as he tried to stand and stumble around, getting his footing after feeling the blood draining out of them just minutes before. Looking down at himself, Geoffrey saw he was now wearing a white shirt and pants, both loose and hanging off his frame uncomfortably. They seemed like they had just been haphazardly thrown on him, but they were a nice change after wearing his tight Lieutenant’s uniform for almost three years straight.

Opening the nearby door he saw, Geoffrey was hit by a blast of clean air. It stung his nostrils as he inhaled a deep breath of the beautifully sweet air. For as long as he could remember, even before the War, the air he breathed had never been as clean as the one time he went down to the cliffs near a friends house. The spray of the ocean and the blowing wind brought in air so gloriously fresh that he tried to memorize the feeling. This was better. This air was cleaner and for not the first time, Geoffrey wondered where he was.

It appeared he had walked out into a town square of some sort. All the buildings were as white as the room he had started off in and looking up into the sky, all he could see was blue. The blue was so foreign to him as well. Growing up in London and its surrounding areas, he was used to rainy and cloudy days. This was one of the most beautiful shades of blue he had ever seen.

“Hello good sir,” a voice said from somewhere beside him, causing Geoffrey to jump. It was a man in a white dressing gown and pants. If the sudden appearance of the man did not surprise Geoffrey, what he was holding in his hand did. It was the hand of another man. Something, which Geoffrey was certain, was not allowed in Heaven and also not allowed on the version of Earth he remembered. The two men seemed completely content holding hands and did not say anything to Geoffrey’s confused gaze at where their hands met.

“What is your name?” The other man, in a white dress shirt and white pants, asked.

“Lieutenant Geoffrey Thurlow,” he replied trying to keep the confusion off his face as he continued to look around the square. What irked him the most was the thick roll of fog around their feet. While he was sure he was standing on solid ground, the fog was playing tricks on his mind. It completely covered up to his ankles and blew through the square like damp cotton balls.

“I’m Duncan and this is my husband Glen,” the man that spoke first, Duncan, said. If Geoffrey were drinking something, he was sure it would have come shooting out his nose. Two men married? Where was he? What kind of strange place was he in?

“Husband?” Geoffrey asked, “is that not illegal?” He remembered hearing about people on Earth that were beaten to death or disfigurement in the streets or locked up in jail just for love. Yet this entire afterlife existed that none of them knew about.

“Of course not, young Geoffrey,” Glen replied, “welcome to The Clouds.”

“The best afterlife you could have,” Duncan added in.

“Its neither Heaven nor Hell,” Glen finished and both cracked massive smiles.

“So, did you have a significant other on The Ground?” Duncan asked once his husband stopped talking. Geoffrey barely heard the question as he looked around the square in stunned silence. All the buildings, while entirely white, looked just like what he was used to in London. A church with a high pointed roof cast shade in the square and on the other, smaller shops. White food was being sold along one side of the square while another boasted a range of white clothing.

“Yeah,” Geoffrey said, finally snapping back to reality to answer Duncan’s question. He recalled his last mental image of the young Captain he had, dare he say, loved, since they were kids. Finally, he added, “His name is Edward.”

 

Later that day, after being led to a house that had popped up on the outskirts of the existing buildings, Geoffrey found himself in the company of Duncan and Glen once more. He had been invited over to their house, which they had been working on since they both died five years ago. They met on the Titanic, Geoffrey was informed, both Scottish lower-class men looking to make better lives in “The New World.” While they never even reached America, they saw life in The Clouds like their second chance together anyways.

Watching everyone in The Clouds interact together so harmoniously, Geoffrey found himself longing to be near Edward, even if only for one more day. He wanted to say goodbye for real this time. Geoffrey was dead and he knew that if he were to interact with Edward again, the young Captain would also be dead. That was the last thing he would ever wish upon him.

“What are you thinking about young man?” Glen asked, seeing Geoffrey’s furrowed brow. It was a face he was not consciously making and Geoffrey forced a smile to grace his features.

“Edward,” Geoffrey said rather quietly, still not confident in his love as the two men he was sitting with. It still seemed weird to say that Edward was more than just a few furtive glances in the shelter of their trench. In his heart, he knew Edward was more than that, but the Laws of Man prevented it on The Ground.

“You can see him from here,” Glen informed him after putting down his white cup of clear tea, “did you know that?”

“I didn’t,” Geoffrey confessed. There was just so much information to take in that he did not know where to start.

“There’s a view port in the town square. If you look through the water in the fountain, you can see anywhere on The Ground,” Glen said. Geoffrey stood so quickly he knocked over the white chair he was sitting in.

 

Geoffrey approached the fountain and was surprised to see that the water was, in fact, water coloured. Bright blue water toppled down the ornate fountain and into a basin near the bottom. Approaching the edge, he looked into the water and saw the image in it transform and morph until he was looking at Edward.

The image he saw placed him just beside Edward, who appeared to be sitting in a trench, not unlike the one Geoffrey died near. It was raining and while he must have been soaked, Edward appeared to be making no move to get himself dry. There was a blanket at his feet and a rain shawl near his hips, indicating his crew had at least tried to encourage their Captain to stay warm. His hands were fisted in his lap with a crumpled piece of pink paper in the vice created. Pink paper; the medium of a death telegraph. When Geoffrey enlisted, his only surviving family member was his mother. Less than a month into his deployment, his mother died and Geoffrey listed Edward’s sister Vera as his emergency contact. That was the only way Edward would have ended up with his death telegraph.

Suddenly, his heart ached for the younger man, who just learnt of his death. Looking closer at Edward’s face, he looked ghostly pale, more pale than one could achieve solely by getting cold. The streaks of water running down his cheeks were also likely more than just the rain not blocked by his wide brimmed helmet. He was mourning and grieving for Geoffrey. One day, hopefully far in the future, they could be reunited and they could marry. They could be forever trapped in this world Geoffrey had started to call his home. While they would be stuck, it was also a weird kind of colourless paradise. Geoffrey would not want it any other way.

* * *

 **Edward** could still remember the afternoon when his sister, Vera, sent him the most devastating telegram that he had ever read.

_Captain Edward Brittain via VAC Nurse Vera Brittain._

_It is with our deepest regret to inform you that Lieutenant Geoffrey Thurlow was officially reported Killed In Action on the twenty third of April 1917._

Geoffrey was dead. None of their plans for the future would ever come true. They would never live in the countryside away from everyone else. Geoffrey was dead and Edward would have to find a way to live his life without the love they shared. He likely had not even received the last letter Edward had sent him.

The 11th Regiment of the Sherwood Foresters, which Edward was the Captain of, fought in the Battle of Somme just a few days later. He could not remember how he ended up in a Red Cross Field Hospital in Camberwell, but he woke with Vera at his side. By sheer, ridiculous luck, he was shot twice, survived and sent to the hospital, which Vera was a nurse at. Vera was at his side, just stroking his hand lightly and humming “Ashgrove,” a song their mother would sing at home.

Edward’s heart caught in his throat when Vera held up the letter. His heart was beating so hard it was almost like he could hear it. “I didn’t read it,” Vera assured him. He let the breath he did not know he was holding. His hands shook as he looked at the letter. It was the very last one he had received from Geoffrey. He kept it in the left pocket of his shirt, close to his heart.

“I miss him,” Edward managed to choke out to Vera before bursting into tears. He had yet to cry over the loss of Geoffrey, which he felt so closely to his heart. It seemed as if the days of anguish and feelings of loss were finally pouring out. He could still remember the days they spent playing in the lake near his father’s house or going to the cliffs that overlooked the sea. Or the time that neither of their parents nor family was home and they spent the afternoon sitting together in the beautifully manicured lawn behind his house. It was simple pleasures like that that Edward did not initially realize he would get to experience ever again. Never living together was devastating but the simple knowledge that he would never be able to see the man that meant so much to him ever again – that was what broke Edward’s heart. Once Vera left to attend to another wave of wounded soldiers, Edward gingerly unfolded one of the letters Geoffrey had sent him and propped it up on his stomach.

_We walked back to barracks last night, all of us thoroughly exhausted. It was a scene of devastation, and yet, as I looked at it, a strange feeling came over me. The setting sun had lit up the water in the shell holes so they looked like pools of gold. I felt a presence there, greater than all this. Such peace, Edward. I thought of you, dear friend, and I knew I’d see you again, either in this world, or the hereafter._

Once he healed, Edward was assigned to the 15th Regiment of Notts and Derby as Captain after their previous was killed. An evening about six months after re-deploying, right before a night offensive against the Austrian Army at Piave River, Edward was called into the bunker of Lieutenant Colonel Charles Hudson.

“You’re a good Captain son,” Colonel Hudson started by stating. Edward could feel his heart plummet. Why was he being told this? Commanding officers rarely praised their subordinates. It seemed oddly suspicious to Edward

“Your men respect you and you lead them well,” Colonel Hudson continued before grabbing a yellow telegraph off his desk, “I’m not supposed to inform you, but I feel I owe you the duty. Upon your return to this base later tonight, you will face a Court Martial for Crimes Against Nature. A letter to one Primary Lieutenant Geoffrey Thurlow was read and censored upon his death. Does this sound right Captain?”

“Yes sir, I’m afraid it does,” Edward admitted, locking his knees to prevent them from giving out underneath him. If he was Court Martialled, his family would find out and he would disgrace the Brittain name. He would either be executed or die in jail; those were his last two options. In that moment, Edward made up his mind. This would be his last offensive with his men and his last night on Earth.

* * *

Edward woke up in The Clouds that night, less than a month before The Great War ended with Geoffrey at his side. Geoffery had known that the younger man was coming and had been waiting. It had devastated him to watch Edward get handed his court-martial summons last night and watch as he steeled his gaze and make his final decision. He had watched the man climb out of his trench, look up into the skies with tears in his eyes and get shot in the head.

Geoffrey only let Edward open his eyes before jumping on him and enveloping him in a massive hug. Looking startled, the young blond boy tried to push Geoffrey off of him before the look of immense confusion and fear crossed his eyes. “Geoff?” Edward whispered, sitting up and looking at the older man. It was like he couldn’t believe or understand what was happening. Edward knew Geoffrey was dead and yet they were staring at each other in a room more advanced and futuristic than either had ever seen.

“What’s happening?” Edward asked, looking around before frantically pawing at his forehead where Geoffrey had watched a bullet strike him just minutes earlier.

“You’re dead love,” Geoffrey said, taking Edward’s now shaking hands in his own. It hurt so much to watch Edward struggle away from him, pull his hands away as if he feared of someone seeing. It was what they were both conditioned to on The Ground. Holding hands, but being on high alert.

“I want to show you something,” Geoffrey said, extending a hand to Edward and pulling the young Captain from the bed. Edward followed, raising himself to standing and not trying to escape Geoffrey’s grasp anymore. When the door opened, the two men walked into the clean air, not polluted with the stench of mud, water and death. Edward gasped. They were in the middle of the main square and, while it was a sight Geoffrey had gotten used to in the year and a half he had been in The Clouds, it was quite a change for Edward.

“Where am I?” Edward said, looking at Geoffrey, the grasp on his hand tightening.

“Its called The Clouds; its neither Heaven nor Hell and its for people like us.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was yet another thing written for school. My student teacher (who is slightly homophobic) wanted us to Historical Fiction short stories, so I chose to write about these two. Such a sad fate, but it was good to write about anyways.


End file.
